Likely Normal

There’s a special corporate phenomenon that can sometimes occur in the lead-up to an IPO, acquisition, or any other event where executives want to pretend the company is made of solid gold and good vibes. Suddenly, the very concept of risk becomes taboo—like mentioning Voldemort at a wizard picnic. Vulnerabilities? What vulnerabilities? Cybersecurity gaps? Must be a typo. That looming technical debt that could collapse the entire infrastructure like a Jenga tower in an earthquake? Shhh, we don’t talk about Bruno.

This is the corporate equivalent of hosting a dinner party and shoving all your clutter into a closet seconds before guests arrive. Sure, the closet is bulging ominously and emitting a faint smell of existential dread, but as long as no one opens it, everything’s fine. Management’s stance is clear: “If we don’t acknowledge it, it’s not real.” Bring up a critical flaw during an IPO roadshow, and you might as well have screamed “The emperor has no clothes” into a megaphone at a shareholder meeting. The response will be a mix of nervous laughter, aggressive note-taking (to discuss never), and someone quickly changing the subject to “But look at our projected revenue!”

The unspoken rule is simple: Nothing exists until after the money clears. That security audit revealing your cloud storage is less “Fort Knox” and more “screen door on a submarine”? File it under “Post-IPO Problems.” The fact that your entire platform runs on a single aging server lovingly referred to as “Old Yeller”? Wow, look at this shiny new feature we’re announcing! It’s not lying—it’s strategic optimism.

Of course, the irony is delicious. The same leaders who preach transparency and accountability in all-hands meetings suddenly develop a “See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Definitely Speak No Evil” policy when money’s on the line. It’s like watching someone insist their car is totally safe while hurtling toward a cliff, just because they haven’t hit the ground yet. “We’ll fix the brakes after we sell it!”

The real kicker? Everyone knows this is happening. The engineers know. The lawyers know. The auditors definitely know. But in the grand tradition of capitalism, we all agree to play along until the check clears. Then—and only then—will someone casually murmur “So… about that server fire…” over a celebratory glass of lukewarm champagne.